


Balance

by MsPeppernose



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Kissing, Leg Humping, M/M, Yoga, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 07:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7213087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPeppernose/pseuds/MsPeppernose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky thinks for sure that Steve is joking when he suggests it, because he can’t possibly be serious about doing yoga to help him balance out his mind, his thoughts.</p>
<p>It’s not that he thinks yoga is stupid or pointless or whatever, he just never thought of it as <i>anything</i> before. He has actual physical training to do - combat, weights, cardio, tactical training - which does help, and he has twice-weekly therapy sessions for his mind, so he doesn’t see the point.</p>
<p>And yet that’s where he ends up; in an early morning Yoga class, with his ass in the air, trying to balance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Balance

**Author's Note:**

> Baby's first adventure in writing Marvel fic. Please be gentle with me.
> 
> This is the first thing I've finished in a while, but I'm glad it's this that got finished. Thank you to TearCatcher for the beta (especially because she's not even in this fandom and has been listening to me bang on about these boys for weeks).

Bucky thinks for sure that Steve is joking when he suggests it, because he can’t possibly be serious about doing Yoga to help him balance out his mind, his thoughts.

It’s not that he thinks yoga is stupid or pointless or whatever, he just never thought of it as _anything_ before. He has actual physical training to do - combat, weights, cardio, tactical training - which does help, and he has twice-weekly therapy sessions for his mind, so he doesn’t see the point.

And yet that’s where he ends up; in an early morning Yoga class, with his ass in the air, trying to balance.

Bucky’s picked a spot near the back of the room, right in the corner. He’s not hiding, but he’s sure that this is a good vantage point to see what’s going on the the class without putting himself on display.

So as he stands on one leg, in what he’s learned is called _Tree_ pose, he feels nothing like a fucking tree wobbling and wavering, but he scans the room. 

Most of the Avengers are here, which is surreal to say the least, but after a couple of poses, and the quiet calm that fills the room, he can kind of see why.

He looks over at Banner, a picture of peace and serenity, eyes closed to the room, completely tuned into himself. Natasha is, too, even though she’s incredibly good at looking calm, even when she’s about to throttle someone.

Bucky glances to his left and sees Steve in a solid, unmoving stance. Bucky catches his eye and he smiles, warm and kind, and it makes Bucky lose his balance, making him go from wavering to flailing. Steve’s smile grows, amused, as Bucky gets himself upright and back onto one leg.

Their teacher, Meadow - a tiny, stern and inexplicably flexible woman in her fifties - gives both Bucky and Steve a glare that Bucky is sure could stop a bullet in mid air.

Steve faces forward again, face still and serious, and Bucky silently curses him.

Bucky fumbles his way through the next couple of poses, getting them sort of right, or at least not entirely wrong. He _is_ flexible, goddamn it, just not _yoga-flexible_ apparently. And he’s strong; he can pull entire car doors off with his left arm - maybe even his right one if he trains some more - but that’s not really the point here. He would bet large amounts of money that their teacher would be over in a flash if he tried to do anything that was obviously leaning his weight on his modified arm instead of both. It doesn’t quite seem fair, but he doesn’t argue it. 

He’s doing okay with his poses until they reach downward facing dog, and Bucky tries to keep on eye on his classmates as he folds himself forward at the waist, legs hip-width apart, hair flopping down over his face, ass to the sky.

He thinks he’s gotten the pose right, but when his tiny teacher - who constantly paces the room checking on form and glaring at them all - comes up behind him and _pulls_ his hips upwards, lengthening every muscle in his body instantly.

It takes him by surprise and he has to bite his lip to keep quiet - though the only sound he’s likely to make is a yelp or a surprised laugh. “Better,” is all she says and moves on to torture and poke at someone else. 

He’s obviously in a better pose now - his shaking muscles tell him this, and he chances glancing over at Steve again, if for no reason other than to roll his eyes, because this was all Steve’s stupid idea.

Steve’s eyes are closed and he’s in a solid pose - far better than Bucky’s, though all of his poses are better than Bucky’s today. But Bucky is new to this, and Steve is Captain fucking America so of course he’s good at pretty much everything.

Bucky’s eyes roam over Steve’s fair hair as his head tips forward, over the bunched up muscles of his shoulders and upper back, his bare feet on the mat, the strong arms holding him up and Steve’s sweatpants-covered ass pointing upwards. His gaze lingers there for a second too long, and he knows he’s lost focus on his pose, because their teacher is suddenly behind him once him, lifting his hips gracelessly to where they ought to be.

When she leaves again, Bucky looks back over at Steve, he can’t help it, and Steve is smirking at him, the bastard.

Bucky’s glad when he makes it through the rest of the class with minimal manhandling from their instructor, and he quite likes the relaxation section at the end where he almost falls asleep instead of concentrating on his breathing.

“Not so bad, huh?” Steve says as they’re rolling away yoga mats.

“I guess. It’s different to what I thought,” Bucky confesses, though it really wasn’t so bad.

“We meet three mornings a week. If you can get your ass out of bed early enough maybe you’ll become a little more flexible,” Natasha says with a wry smile. She’s almost out of the gym by the time Bucky replies, so he doesn’t really need to say, “I’m plenty flexible,” but he does anyway, because he feels like he has to.

“She’s right, though,” Steve says and Bucky looks at him like he’s a traitor.

“Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, Buck, of course,” Steve smiles. “But it’s good, right? You practice it often, and it can help, you know? The breathing, the concentration, it can slow things down. I’m happy you tried it out, but I’d be happier if you came back and did it again.”

Bucky makes an unintelligible noise in reply. 

“What else have you got to do first thing in the morning?” Steve asks. 

“I dunno, sleep?” Which is actually true, because by the time his mind quiets down enough to sleep, it’s usually well into the night, so mornings are spent trying to keep hold of any sleep he can get. But considering how relaxed he feels, and how he almost grabbed a quick nap lying on the floor of the gym, maybe it’s okay if he gets himself out of bed earlier than normal three times a week.

“Sleep after. Think about it.” And then Steve’s out of the gym with a backwards glance and a warm smile for Bucky. Yeah, maybe can give the whole yoga thing a try.

And he does; he goes to the next class, and the one after that. It’s still fucking hard to get into positions his body doesn’t know yet, but he’s still better than the first time he tried them.

The concentration helps him; forcing himself to focus only on what his body is doing, while it’s doing nothing more than staying in one position slows his brain down. 

Bucky learns quickly that he shouldn’t place his mat directly behind Natasha’s if he’d like to live another day. He definitely doesn’t mean to stare at her ass, there’s just a lot of poses involving bending over and he’s right behind her. Lesson learned, and even if no one else in the class picks up her choice, subtle threats because they’re in Russian, Bucky gets it. 

So today he’s right on the other side of the room so he can’t even look by accident. 

And he’s right behind Steve, which is actually fine, because despite the fact that yoga is relatively new to Steve too, he’s pretty good - of course he is - so Bucky can follow his poses pretty easily. 

Bucky settles in for a good stretch and finds himself staring at the inch of Steve’s skin that appears when he stretches upwards, making his shirt ride up. He uses it as his focal point as he balances on one leg, and concentrates. He lets his eyes travel up the line of Steve’s spine to his broad shoulders, and then back down again to Steve’s firm, round ass.

And okay, this is not new, not a recent thing. Bucky’s been looking at Steve in a more-than-friendly way since Steve found him again. It’s not just the gorgeous ass and bulging biceps too - Steve is the kindest, most generous person that Bucky’s ever been lucky enough to meet, and he’s been incredibly selfless in his looking after Bucky while he attempts to recover.

The more time they spend together, the more things Steve gently reminds him of, helps him with, the more that feeling grows in Bucky’s insides.

Bucky knows all of this, and he has a feeling that this isn’t just since Steve found him again. His memories are hazy at best, often nonexistent, but sometimes when he looks at Steve he can see a veil of something else, an echo from the past that warms his heart. 

He’s lost in his own head thinking of Steve, staring into space and obviously not paying attention, because he gets a tap on the shoulder from the teacher. She looks unimpressed, and Bucky starts to realise why; while he’s been daydreaming about Steve and how wonderful he is, the rest of the class has moved on without him. He’s the only one still standing, still in _tree pose_ , and he feels like a fool as she gives him a reproachful look.

Later, when he’s almost all the way upside down in _downward facing dog_ again, he glances forward to check the way Steve’s positioned, like somehow he’ll have a better posture if he follows Steve. 

When he does, he sees two things; Steve’s firm, toned ass pointing skyward in snug sweat pants, and Steve’s smiling face looking back between his parted legs at Bucky. Bucky huffs a little laugh, and he’s not sure if it’s because he’s beginning to lose his balance in this pose or if it’s a nervous laugh because he got caught looking at Steve’s ass.

He doesn’t fall, just wobbles a little, but the pose changes again, and he regains some semblance of balance. He drops back onto his heels and into _Child_ pose and it’s a really good stretch for his back, shoulders and upper arms- though it doesn’t quite work the same way with a metal arm. It gives him a moment to duck his head as it’s tucked into his chest though, and he uses it hide the blush in his cheeks that he can’t quite explain.

He catches Steve’s eye a handful more times during the class and each time Steve has a smile for him and a stifled giggle if Bucky’s poses waver. 

By the end of the class Bucky is more flustered than he should be, less relaxed than usual, but he’s happy, so that’s something.

As if things couldn’t get weirder - perving on his best friend while doing yoga ranks pretty high - Steve shows up to the next class wear these _tights_. 

“Yoga pants,” Steve explains. They’re tight in all the right places, or all the wrong places if Bucky’s ever going to concentrate in this class.

“Not tights?”

“I don’t think so,” Steve shrugs. While Steve’s worn some pretty snug uniforms as Captain America, Bucky can write them off as necessary to allow him to move and fight without being constricted. This just seems...excessive, though Bucky’s thought disappears into thin air when the class begins and the sight of Steve’s yoga pants-clad ass and thighs in various poses are all that fills Bucky’s head.

It’s the worst (best) yoga class that Bucky has done so far, and he’s miserable (ecstatic) by the end. He spends the entire time furtively checking out Steve, despite how much he knows he shouldn’t. Meadow hates him, having to fix his posture every single time and not only does he not fall asleep during relaxation at the end, but he stares at the ceiling of the gym, almost grinding his teeth. 

What had been a harmless crush and some warm feelings of gratitude and friendship, is becoming so much more.

He spends an hour in the gym after the yoga session beating up a punch bag bare handed, and he only stops when his flesh knuckles have bloody sores on them. Any shred of relaxation he may have felt has long since left his body when he gets back home.

He flops down on the couch - face first of course - and only moves when his phone beeps a text.

_Your form was way off today_ Bucky reads, _you need to practice, Buck_

_maybe if i got some stretchy pants like yours_ Bucky teases.

_yoga pants!_ Bucky laughs for the first time today. _but you do need to practice_

_I need a teacher who doesn’t hate me_

_Practice with me then. I sure don’t hate you_

Bucky gets butterflies at reading that, though Bucky’s fairly sure that Steve’s not capable of ever hating him, and god knows Bucky’s given him ample reason to.

_what you got in mind?_

_come over later_

 

Bucky does, and he’s not entirely surprised to find Steve is wearing another pair of super-stretchy, super-clingy yoga pants. This pair are navy blue and just as figure hugging, and Bucky lets his eyes skim up the back of Steve’s thighs when he turns away.

When Steve spots Bucky’s bloodied knuckles he just clucks his tongue and says, “You really do need some more yoga in your life, Buck.” He picks up a complicated looking tablet of Stark’s creation and flicks around on it. “So there’s hours and hours of instructional videos for every type of yoga you can imagine,” Steve says.

Bucky’s not particularly surprised, because everything new he’s encountered recently has infinite versions and is all over the internet. But he says, “Let me see,” and takes the tablet from Steve.

There’s so many that it’s hard to take in, as he skims his finger down the screen, scrolling and scrolling. The names of the videos differ and there’s lots of different versions.

“Hot yoga?” he asks.

“I saw that one. Never tried it. It’s a heated room, supposed to warm up your body so you can get into the poses more easier.” 

“We should try it. Might get me into some of those poses I can’t fucking do. Hopefully won’t make my arm melt..”

“I’ll tell Nat to crank up the heat for the next class and we can see how flexible you really are.” Steve’s smirk tells Bucky he’s teasing, so Bucky grins back. He has to divert his attention back to the tablet. He scrolls down and then stops dead, his finger hovering over one video in particular. “Uh, Steve. Did you make this video list?”

“Nope. Stark compiled it for me. Why?”

Bucky cackles as he passes the tablet back to Steve, who’s brow furrows when he sees what Bucky’s pointing at. “That son of a bitch.”

“Naked yoga,” Bucky screeches, and he’s only laughing because Steve’s face is a picture. He knows that Stark is as much of a playful asshole as he could ever rival, and that Steve is an easy mark.

When Steve’s blush has faded, and when Bucky’s finally stopped laughing, they pick a video of basic poses like and set it up. Steve’s living room is a pretty decent size once they push the furniture out of the way. When Bucky flattens out his yoga mat and stands back up he considers something. “So how’s this going to work? We don’t have a teacher watching us. How do we know-- If you’re in a pose, and I’m in a pose, and there’s just the guy on the screen in seriously stretchy pants, there’s no one to tell us if we’ve gotten it wrong?”

Steve makes a pretty adorable face and looks like he’s thinking. “Yeah, I get that. I didn’t think --Ideally we’d need a mirror. There’s a mirrored wall in the gym, but I thought we’d be more comfortable here.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a better idea. We could maybe just spot each other? Keep an eye on the pose?”

“Deal.”

Bucky’s pretty comfortable with the first set of poses so they run through them quickly with minimal giggling or distraction.

It’s only when they start into inverted poses that Bucky starts to lose his cool, and maybe it’s something to do with that rush of extra blood to his head when he turns himself upside down.

Gravity takes over and Steve’s shirt falls towards his chest when he’s upside down. His eyes are gently closed in concentration, but he must be aware of it. Bucky sure is, as his eyes roam over the line of fine hair on Steve’s flat abs, the muscles lean and solid under pale skin. Bucky’s belly is on show too but he has far too much else to worry about as he tries to concentrate on blocking out Steve’s gorgeous physique, and desperately try to stay in his pose. 

“How’s it going, Buck?” Steve says. Bucky glances over again and Steve’s eyes are still closed, he’s still unmoving in a elegant headstand. There’s a tiny smile on his lips that makes Bucky’s breath hitch and it’s the last straw for Bucky’s pose. He tucks his knees to his chest and lowers himself to the floor, choosing giving in over falling and making a fool of himself.

“Yeah, headstands are not for me,” Bucky says. He sits cross-legged on his mat and watches as Steve comes down from his pose and mirror Bucky’s sitting position.

“You just gotta practice.” Steve gets up and indicates for Bucky to move. “Try it again. C’mon.”

Bucky does, and Steve helps him, moves his feet into the correct place so that his pose is much better. Steve’s touch is infinitely gentler than Meadow’s, and Bucky’s feeling pretty confident about his posture. That is, until he opens his eyes and looks up at Steve from the floor and all he gets is a perfect view of Steve’s thighs wrapped in those stupidly hot yoga pants.

He manages to keep his cool long enough to come out of the pose again, and without accidentally kicking Steve in the stomach as he does.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll work on that another time,” he says. Maybe he will. If he can master that one it’ll feel like an accomplishment.

The instructional video has been paused for some time, the pair finding it easier to run through the poses that they like and dislike, the ones that seem to cause them trouble balancing.

Steve doesn’t bother unpausing, and Bucky forgets the video even exists when Steve says, “So, if we try downward facing dog, can you tell me if my hips are in the right place?”

“Sure,” Bucky says. “Sure, yeah. Of course. Maybe you can do the same for me.” Though Bucky’s hips are never in the right place for that pose.

Bucky stands watching, as Steve gets into position so carefully, slowly following the steps to get it right. And as Bucky watches and takes in the stretch of Steve’s body, his strong thighs, perfect arms, the short hair at the back of his neck, he feels a tingle in his chest that is not coming from his love of yoga. Bucky swallows hard as Steve points his ass to the sky and gets into what’s most likely an almost perfect downward facing dog.

“How’s that?” Steve says, his voice ever-so-slightly muffled by the fact that his shirt is falling over his face and exposing his midriff again.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine I think.”

“You think?”

It’s not perfect, and Steve can be a perfectionist, so Bucky gets up because moving Steve a tiny bit might be quicker than Steve pestering him to do it. Bucky pushes his hands together, cracking his knuckles like he’s warming up to do something awful, and Steve laughs from down on the floor.

“Come on, Buck.”

“Quit your impatience, Rogers. Thought yoga was supposed to make you calm.”

Steve laughs again, but it cuts off when Bucky moves to stand between Steve’s legs and carefully places his hands on Steve’s hips. Once he has his hands there he hesitates; Meadow pulls so roughly when she moves people, but Bucky wants to be gentle. He has to curl his palm right around Steve’s hip to lift him, but he does, and Steve’s pose turns from almost-right into perfectly poised. Bucky takes his hands away then; as much as he’d quite like to keep them there he has no reason to without being a weirdo.

“Better,” Bucky says, trying to sound as much like Meadow as he can. Steve laughs again, and his pose wavers. Bucky wants to put his hands back on Steve’s hips to help him back into the pose, but before he can do that, Steve comes out of it entirely, and says, “Your turn.”

Bucky takes a big deep breath and slowly runs through the steps to get himself into downward facing dog. He might feel vulnerable in a position like this if it was anyone other than Steve behind him, but it’s just Steve, _his_ Steve. He feels a little exposed though, and he’s sure that Steve is probably looking as his ass even if it’s only to get into position to help him, rather than for oggling purposes. Bucky clenches his ass anyway, hoping it looks good even if Steve’s not interested.

Bucky holds his breath without meaning to as Steve moves in close behind him. He closes his eyes when Steve’s big, warm hands land on his hips. Steve doesn’t pull his hips up though, not for a long second, and Bucky can feel himself sweating suddenly. 

Bucky’s body must look obviously tense, because Steve still hasn’t fixed his posture for him. But then Steve takes a step closer, so that he’s right between Bucky’s legs. Steve’s hands don’t so much pull Bucky’s hips upwards as gently _squeeze_. He’s close enough that Bucky can feel the heat of Steve’s body through the thin fabric of his sweats, and he briefly wonders what Steve’s thighs would feel like pressed up against his, either in those yoga pants or maybe even out of them. 

He makes a little noise without meaning too, one that could hopefully be mistaken for the effort needed to hold the pose. But it’s not that, it’s something that can’t be explained away, something that doesn’t belong in a yoga class. He hears Steve exhale a little sigh that Bucky can’t even begin to decipher. Steve’s hands are still on Bucky’s hips, still unmoving, except for a single, slow stroke of his thumb as it skims over the flesh of Bucky’s ass.

Bucky’s chest tightens and heat floods to his stomach. Of course he wants Steve to touch him, but he wants Steve to _want_ it, not like this when Bucky’s enjoying something accidental. Guilt replaces pleasure and he knows he has to end this.

“Um,” Bucky says, still in the pose, still with Steve’s big hands on his hips. He drops his knees to the mat, reluctantly, so reluctantly, because he needs to asses the situation, but it means moving out of Steve’s hold.

Bucky looks up at Steve from the floor, Steve’s cheeks are flushed and he looks nowhere near as calm and composed as he usually does after yoga. So Bucky stands, not really sure what else to do.

“So that was--” Steve says, eyes barely meeting Bucky’s but when they do, they’re dark and hot, and Bucky can’t take it. He looks beautiful. What’s Bucky supposed to do here? Yoga has gotten weird and he’s somehow made Steve uncomfortable enough to blush. Is it possible that Steve has picked up on Bucky’s feelings, his hormones, his _lust_?

“Yeah, I don’t know either,” Bucky cuts in. He feels uncomfortable, probably looks it too as his eyes dart around the room, not looking at Steve. He scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably and resists the urge to put his hands on his own hips to feel where Steve’s hands were.

“Should we just--do you want to do some more poses?”

“Do you?” Bucky asks, and he’s fine with running through more yoga poses, he’ll do just about anything to spend time with Steve, but he feels like the atmosphere has changed and he’s not sure what it’s changed to.

“No.”

Bucky, despite his best efforts not to, looks Steve up and down, his gaze lingering on his thighs, his chest, his mouth. When they lock eyes there’s so much that’s unsaid and Bucky doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to move, to end the moment. He wants to kiss Steve, to press himself up against Steve’s hard chest, maybe do some naked yoga with him, but he just stands there, mouth gaping.

It’s Steve who breaks the moment and it’s by looking down at his feet, at the wall behind Bucky’s head, into the distance at nothing out the window. He looks awkward and uncomfortable, but he doesn’t move away.. He mirrors Bucky’s gesture of rubbing the back of his neck with his palm, but then he steps closer to Bucky until there’s merely a foot of space between them.

Bucky feels like he’s watching from outside his body as he leans forward and kisses Steve, square on the mouth. The tightness in his chest is bubbling a mixture of fear and excitement and he doesn’t know which one he feels more. Steve doesn’t move right away, and Bucky’s sure that if he opens his eyes he’s likely to see Steve’s eyes open, wide and stunned. But then, not only does Steve kiss back, but his mouth opens under Bucky’s, soft and inviting, and his hands go to Bucky’s hips, pulling him close. 

Bucky lets go of the last shred of tension in his body and just _melts_ into Steve’s arms. His chest bumps against Steve’s, their teeth clash a little, and he can feel Steve’s stubble rub roughly against his chin. But, _oh god_ , what a kiss! 

Steve yoga pants do nothing to hide the fact that he’s hard, and Bucky makes an embarrassing little gasp when Steve’s erection touches against his thigh. He can’t believe this is happening, can’t believe that Steve wants this..

The kiss only stops when Bucky can barely breathe. He pulls back just enough to look right into Steve’s startlingly blue eyes, and he feels his breath hitch all over again.

“Um,” he says again - because that worked so well last time.

“Buck-”

Bucky shakes his head, stopping Steve before he can speak. “Wait. Steve, before you say anything. I just--I have to say this.” Though even as he’s speaking, he’s screaming internally at the thought that saying this now could ruin so much more than a yoga session. Why he suddenly feels the need to spill his guts to he’s been feeling for so long he doesn’t know, but it’s like a wound that’s bleeding and he can’t quite stem the flow. “I want to do that again. I want to kiss you again. And touch you. And spend all my time with you. I’ve been thinking about you since-- since you found me again. And I know I don’t remember everything from before, but I’m almost sure I felt it then too. I just--can we kiss again? I mean, do you want to? I don’t even know if you like fellas in that way, let alone me. But, Steve-”

“Bucky. Just--wait a minute. “ Steve presses his finger to Bucky’s lips to silence him and Bucky shuts up instantly. He stares at Steve again, unblinking, trying not to get lost in the vast oceans that are Steve’s eyes. “I want to.”

It’s silence again from Bucky, because Steve wants to what, exactly?

“I want to,” Steve says again. “I want to spend all of my time with you. I asked you to come to yoga, not just because I thought it would help your mental state, but because I want to spend more time with you. I always do.” He pauses, and takes Bucky’s flesh hand in his very gently, fingers curling around Bucky’s. “And I do, I like you. I want to kiss you...and touch you.” 

With that, Steve softly closes his eyes and kisses Bucky again, his free hand fitting to Bucky’s jaw to hold him there. Not that Bucky has any intentions of moving, there’s no place else he’d rather be.

Steve tugs Bucky forwards so that they’re pressed chest to chest again, and then he leads him to the sofa. Bucky feels like he’s all knees and elbows as he tries to settle against Steve, one leg half over Steve’s thigh, arms around him. He wants to crawl into Steve’s lap, wants to _grind down_ into his lap and see if Steve’s hard again.

But he takes it slow, and so does Steve. Bucky hasn’t kissed anyone in a long time - far too many years to think about. He’s sure it’s not possible to forget how to kiss, but there’s something so unfamiliar about kissing Steve, a newness that makes him think he’s never been kissed like this before. He relishes the brush of Steve’s hair on his forehead, the careful swipe of tongue. He tastes Steve and tries not to let his head skip forward and wonder what the rest of Steve might taste like - his skin, his cock. 

Bucky gets distracted when Steve touches right at the waistband of his sweats, right where it meets skin. It rests there though, stroking out a beat on Bucky’s hip under his shirt. Bucky follows suit, making a move for Steve’s hip but he lets his fingers carry on, up under the cotton of Steve’s shirt. Steve’s skin is smooth like butter, and soon Bucky’s not just using his fingertips, his entire hand is sliding up over Steve’s stomach and ribs. 

Bucky goes for it and gets his other hand up there too, rucking up Steve’s shirt until it’s up around his pecs. With Bucky’s hands all over him, Steve makes the most gorgeous little sounds into their kiss, and Bucky eats every single one of them up. Bucky pushes the shirt up more and Steve just pulls back and whips it off. While Bucky’s eyes dance over the newly bare skin, Steve makes short work of Bucky’s t-shirt leaving him barechested and so ready to wrap himself around Steve.

He does - they end up lying on the couch, pressed close together, shirtless and exploring each others bodies. Steve’s soft lips move to Bucky’s jaw, then down to suck gently on his pulse, and he arches into it. He feels greedy - he wants everything, wants Steve to keep doing this, and there’s so much he wants to do to Steve, _with_ Steve. 

Bucky never dreamed this would happen - but okay, he totally thought about it - so he tries to keep himself in the moment and enjoy every little spark he feels when Steve touches him.

Bucky’s legs are wide open and he wraps them easily around Steve’s. It’s perfect because it means when Bucky squeezes Steve’s ass he grinds forward into Bucky’s hard-on with a pleased hum, and Bucky feels like his body might be on fire. The feeling of Steve’s fabric-covered ass reminds him that Steve’s still wearing those ridiculous pants.

“Steve, I gotta tell you, these pants are somethin’ else.” He strokes his fingers lightly down Steve’s hip and Steve pushes forward, kissing Bucky’s lips again, smiling against his mouth.”I like ‘em.”

“I was hoping you would.” Steve’s cheeks actually flush pink, and it’s adorable. “I thought while we were stretching and hanging out and doing all that bending over, that if I looked nice for you, maybe you’d notice.” He shrugs like it’s nothing but Bucky’s heart swells up.

“Wait, so you wore them for me?”

“Well,” Steve says, “I thought I caught you looking at me, so I figured I’d give you something to look at.” 

“You know I appreciate a good view,” Bucky says. His hand goes to rest on Steve’s thigh and he feels the solid heat of Steve’s muscle under the thin cotton.

Steve just smiles, then leans in and takes Bucky’s mouth in a kiss that leaves Bucky feeling winded. He lets himself move right in close to Steve so that they’re pressed together, chest to hip, Steve’s weight holding Bucky down. It means he can hook his arms around Steve’s body, feel the heat of Steve’s skin. And Steve’s far from complaining; he kisses Bucky eagerly, hands skimming over Bucky’s hips and waist.

“Come into my bed,” Steve says to the skin right below Bucky’s ear, and Bucky groans.

Once they’re on Steve’s bed they can spread out, and it’s far, far easier for them to get out of the rest of their clothes. With nothing between them but skin, it’s full body contact, and it’s almost too much for Bucky to take. 

Steve’s body is perfectly sculpted - all defined, hard muscle and soft skin, and Bucky wants to touch it all with his fingertips exploring slowly and gently. He also just wants to rub his dick against Steve’s thigh until he comes, and he doesn’t quite know which he wants more. 

They kiss again and again; filthy, hot kisses, wet with lots of tongue and Bucky’s aching for more. He takes a steadying breath as Steve moves to kiss his jaw again, the wet pressure of his open mouth feeling like nothing else on this planet. Steve works his way along the line of bone until he gets to right under Bucky’s ear, right where he stopped the last time. Steve doesn’t stop now. He keeps heading down, down the side of Bucky’s neck, and Bucky cries out when Steve sinks his teeth into the spot where it joins his shoulder - a hotspot Bucky didn’t know he has, but oh, he has it.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he’s sure that they should be trying some sort of acrobatic, super-flexible positions - something to really test out their newfound yoga skills. But right now, Bucky just wants to keep it simple, and maybe there’ll be time for contortionist positions later on.

They roll around a bit, just touching and kissing, and they’re both so hard. The sounds that Steve make each time Bucky’s cock touches against Steve’s is like beautiful, wondrous music, and certainly the hottest thing that Bucky’s ever heard.

Bucky gets Steve on his back, and then gets his hand around Steve’s dick, but he’s careful and tentative. Despite how much Bucky wants this, despite how goddamn fired up and desperate he feels for this, he wants to remember what he can of it. He watches as Steve’s eyes flutter shut, long, thick eyelashes fanning out over his cheeks. He takes a shaky breath as Bucky strokes him slowly, and his gorgeous pink mouth parts into an _Oh_ as he sighs out a sound of pure contentment.

Steve’s reacts to every little movement that Bucky makes, and Bucky loves it. His own dick is throbbing, but he tries to ignore it so he can concentrate of Steve. 

Bucky’s strokes get more confident as he starts to figure out what way Steve like to be touched. He ues Steve’s reaction as a barometer; when Steve’s hips twitch or his cock jumps or he gasps and moans, Bucky steps it up, tightening his grip, swiping his thumb over the slit. Steve’s breathing becomes more erratic, and the sounds that tumble from his mouth become more pornographic. Bucky sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of Steve’s neck, and Steve comes, shuddering and groaning through it.

With Steve still on his back, Bucky doesn’t bother moving; he just shifts his legs enough so that he’s got one of Steve’s thighs between both of his and rolls his hips. It’s beautiful, sweet fiction and it forces a moan out of him. He does it again, and again, and again, rubbing and rubbing against Steve’s thigh until he’s gasping. 

Steve threads his hand into Bucky’s hair and tilts his head up enough that Bucky can kiss him thought it.

Bucky keeps on rutting against Steve’s thigh, and he’s vaguely aware that humping someone’s leg is not the most elegant way to sleep with someone for the first time. He’s too far gone to care, though, too lost in Steve to give any sort of flying fuck.

When Bucky can’t keep himself together enough to kiss any longer, he buries his face in Steve’s skin and inhales the scent of sweat and pheromones and faded cologne.

“God, Buck. You should see - you’re goddamn gorgeous. Should see yourself when you’re stretching. All bent over, that fine ass of yours in the air. Couldn’t help thinking about you.” Bucky groans and moves his hips faster. He can feel that perfect pull of orgasm just waiting on the periphery, waiting to be tipped over the edge. The drag of his erection against Steve’s hard thigh is sweet friction, and he’s so fucking close. “Do you think you could hold _downward facing dog_ while I fuck you? Do you think you could keep your hips in place that long?”

Bucky just moans at the thought, a thrill running through him at hearing such dirty, unwholesome things from Steve’s pretty mouth.

Steve’s voice is shredded, and it sounds delicious enough to push Bucky right over that cliff. He comes, face buried in Steve’s neck groaning long and low. Steve holds him through it and pets his hair, turning one of the hottest moments of Bucky’s life into one of the sweetest.

“So that was-” Steve starts, but Bucky cuts him off with, “not yoga,” and they both laugh. 

There’s silence for a long moment, the only sound in the room is their breathing. Bucky’s heartbeat is still pounding in his ears, but it’s slowing but the time Steve speaks again. “We can, though. We can do yoga together. We can do it all the time. If you want?”

Bucky looks up at Steve and he looks so sincere, so unguarded. It’s the reply to Bucky’s earlier question and his whole body fills with butterflies again.

“And other stuff, too?” Bucky asks. He rearranges himself so that he’s comfortable. He’s no longer lying on Steve like a human blanket - now he’s just got his head on Steve’s chest and his palm on Steve’s stomach. 

“Of course, Bucky.”  
Steve’s fingers card through Bucky’s hair so softly, and Bucky finds himself stroking his finger on Steve’s skin in time. 

“Like naked yoga?” Bucky asks as innocently as he can and Steve just giggles, his chest vibrating under Bucky’s cheek. 

“Yes, Buck. Like naked yoga.”


End file.
